


First to the Finish

by walrusgrendel



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walrusgrendel/pseuds/walrusgrendel
Summary: The Chargers have an easy job lined up- a wyvern hunt for a lovesick noble, what could go wrong?Enter two members of a rival mercenary company hired to thwart the Chargers' employer at all costs- a deeply suspicious Tal-vashoth and a man who is definitely not an apostate mage.
Relationships: Male Adaar/Iron Bull, Male Inquisitor/Iron Bull
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

If Emprise du Lion had anything at all going for it, it was that the perpetual misery of the place clearly brought the price of drinks down. At that moment, this was particularly helpful as if it had not been for the fifth pint of the local excuse for ale, Bull would have been a great deal less calm about the news that Krem had dropped on him with all the grace of a cat dumping a freshly maimed mouse on one's bed.

"Which one is it?"

"Not a clue." Krem collapsed onto the rickety chair opposite, peeling his gloves off as he did. "I'd say we should get more of the Chargers up here but we might have trouble getting them in time."

He let the end of the sentence hang. Dalish and Skinner had led the rest on a job to the Emerald Graves. Bull had thought it would be a simple thing to run two jobs at once and he and Krem had taken the one that involved Orlesian nobles.

And now it seemed there was another company skulking around too.

 _Shit._ He drained his cup and cast his eye around for the barmaid as he spoke.

"Any idea who's hired them?"

"Lady Caron. She's supposed to be marrying our host. Apparently Duke Dufour has agreed they'll have the wedding after he presents her with the heart of this wyvern we're meant to be chasing. Caron's hired help to get there first instead."

Bull had to admit some grudging respect for Lady Caron, even if she had just made his job a hell of a lot harder. He also made sure to tuck that piece of information away. A rift between two of Orlais' noble families was exactly the sort of thing he was there for.

"If she's not interested, wouldn't a simple 'no, the wedding's off' work too?"

"Problem is, she _is_ interested. But Dufour's supporting Celene and her entire family are committed to Gaspard. She doesn't want to marry him while there's still some question over who's arse will be on that throne this time next year. Plus she wants to delay over some agreements that her family made with Gaspard. Couldn't follow all of it but the general idea is that she gets more out of the marriage if Gaspard is Emperor, and Dufour gets more if Celene is Empress."

"Orlesians."

Bull huffed. Realising he should at least make an attempt at being the inspirational leader for Krem, he grinned. "Just means we get a chance to show up this other company while we're kicking that wyvern's ass."

"Not sure wyvern's have those."

"Ever seen one?"

"An ass? I'm looking at one right now."

Bull grumbled. "Should've brought Grim along instead. He wouldn't be giving me nearly as much lip." He resumed his search for the barmaid. "How did you hear all this about the Duke and Caron anyway?"

"Caron's stablehand couldn't wait to share the gossip. Found out everything about the nobles' squabbles but nothing about who she hired."

At that moment, the heavy door swung open and a harsh blast of icy air crashed through the tavern, trailing tails of snowflakes in with it.

"My friends!" Duke Dufour was a man barely into his thirties but already starting to bald on the very top of his head. He had made a number of absolutely fascinating fashion decisions in an attempt to disguise this fact. That day's cover was an elaborate trail of feathers that extended back from his equally ostentatious mask and that had the effect of making it look like some tropical bird had made a nest on his scalp.

Krem responded as he always did when faced with the Duke- by looking firmly at a spot slightly to the left of the Duke himself, presumably fearing that meeting the Orlesian's eyes would release the laughter that Bull knew was barely being restrained.

Bull smiled and gestured to the empty seat on the right- the one without any crooked legs. The role of the coarse but deferential mercenary was a familiar one to slip into.

"Terrible news, my friends, simply terrible!" The Duke announced. "It seems that some of my guests have brought some extra help for the hunt. I fear the wyvern may be beyond our reach! Lord Lachance and Count Fontaine have contacted the Red Iron. They are sending a man to bolster both of them! Even more distressing, the Lady Caron has brought in a pair of o-" Dufour froze, shifted a little, and continued in a more measured tone, "a pair of guards that she claims are merely for her security but I do not believe a word of it! They are here for the wyvern! Oh I did hope that this could be a civilised, respectable hunt- especially after the mess I attended at Chateau Haine!"

Bull didn't want or need anyone to tell him any more about that shitstorm.

The door swung open again. The sight of the three figures entering was momentarily obscured by the Duke leaning foward, conspiratorially.

"And here they are now!"

Bull craned his neck to get a better view. Lady Caron was obvious- even if Bull couldn't see the ornate mask, she was the only human in the group. Immediately behind her, horns sweeping backwards was a woman nearly as tall and broad as The Iron Bull himself. What he could see of her face revealed a nose that had been broken at least twice and a jagged scar that crossed one cheek completely and disappeared into the hood of her cloak. Her silver hair was cropped short and she cast suspicious eyes around the room, fixing them with a cold glare.

The shape behind her had yet to remove their hood, fur lining ruffling slightly as they pulled the door closed after them. Although he could not see them as clearly, it was clear from their height what the two of them meant.

Tal-vashoth.

 _Well shit_.

Caron spoke lowly to the innkeeper while the Tal-vashoth woman was still taking stock of the room but Bull's attention remained fixed on the third member of their group. They were neither as tall or as muscular as the other. _An Archer perhaps? Easy to counter in close-quarters and the warrior will be distracted by protecting them. Unless they have a knife to hand and know how to use it._

Almost as though they could tell they were being watched, the figure pulled down his hood. A mop of very dark, very red hair spilled free around a freckled face, framed by horns that curved elegantly downwards.

Bull wondered where the hell that barmaid had vanished to. He had a feeling he'd be needing that next drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why are bioware designing qunari like this is world of warcraft??? Buff qunari ladies now


	2. Chapter 2

They had been on the job for approximately thirty seconds when it already started to fall apart.

Lady Caron started to turn an ugly shade of red under her bloodstone mask, giving her the appearance of a glittering cherry. The innkeeper had just had the unfortunate job of informing her that he had no more rooms to spare for her and her entourage. Said 'entourage' consisted entirely of the two qunari and a harassed-looking elf that had been given the dubious honour of relaying anything the lady wanted said to her would-be suitor to save Caron from having to converse with him herself.

More importantly for the moment, the elf had also been the one sent ahead to organise their rooms.

For the fifth time that day, Shokrakar wondered whether she should have charged more.

A small movement to her side caught her attention and Shokrakar shot out a hand just in time to grab Adaar by the hood before he could move any further.

"What?"

"Don't even think about it." She said, jerking her head towards the table Adaar had been inching towards. The table where two men and a qunari sat. "We're not here to make any more enemies."

"What about making friends?"

"Definitely not. And I don't want any involvement with any other qunari if we can help it; he might have been in Kirkwall."

When the Champion had killed the Arishok two year prior, a great deal of Ben-Hassrath had suddenly been reassigned. Shokrakar didn't want to end up in anyone's reports.

The younger qunari looked ready to argue and Shokrakar thought back to the comparison one of their past employers had made between Adaar and a nug- sweet but by all the laws of nature, should have been killed and eaten a long time ago.

"We are here to find this monster, get paid, and go. That's it."

"I know! Just don't think it'd hurt to get to know the competition."

Not for the first time, Shokrakar considered whether she'd end up regretting bringing Adaar instead of Herah. In the end he had two distinct advantages: an odd ability to endear himself to Orlesian nobles, and the fact that Herah's reaction to high-pressure situations was to start raising the dead. Such a thing was inadvisable generally but even more so when surrounded by Andrastians.

"But my Lady!" The elf was protesting, lilting voice growing higher with each syllable, "He said that they have been full ever since last night! I wasn't to know!"

Shokrakar noticed a slight commotion over to the side as one of the men who had been sitting with the qunari jumped to his feet and marched over to them.

"My dear Lady Caron! I apologise for overhearing your troubles, but I could not help but notice that you are having some difficulty securing accommodations for the night."

"Fleur, please inform Duke Dufour that my troubles are my own."

"Um..." The elf began tentatively, clearly uncertain whether her orders still applied in circumstances where Caron and the Duke stood a few feet apart. "Lady Caron wishes for me to inform you-"

"I myself happen to have paid for three rooms- one for myself and two for my guards." He gestured to his table, "It would be no trouble for our companies to join together for the night. Your maid could remain with you and these two could find space with my own guards."

Shokrakar watched as a deep internal struggle between propriety and practicality dueled within Lady Caron's mind. To accept the Duke's offer would create some small sense of obligation. Refusing would force them to travel further out of the way for lodgings.

"Fleur, please thank the Duke for his generosity but tell him that I would not force my guards to endure such cramped conditions on my account." Caron said.

 _Ah, the old selfless suffering approach._ Shokrakar had to refrain from snorting at the idea that the Orlesians had any such consideration for their comfort.

Any more on the subject was interrupted by the crash of the door being thrown open. All mirth fled her mind as she caught sight of exactly who had entered.

"Oh piss."

Two more Orlesian men led the group, but her focus was entirely on the two that had followed behind. One of them was unfortunately very familiar.

"What is it?" Adaar murmured.

"Kirkwallers. Red Iron. _Shit_."

Adaar clearly took in the look on her face and turned quickly back to the Lady and Duke. "Do not concern yourselves on our account. We would be happy to share for the time being if your company would be amenable to it."

Duke Dufour blinked in surprise, mouth slightly ajar from the sudden turn in the discussion. Caron shot Adaar a clearly irritated look.

"Oh... of course if neither party have any objections." Caron began.

Not waiting for their employer to finish the acceptance, Shokrakar marcher Adaar to the Duke's table pulled a pair of chairs over with a foot and sat quickly.

"Shokrakar. This is Adaar. Valo-kas mercenaries." She nodded to the other qunari. If she had judged them right, this was the leader.

"The Iron Bull and this is my lieutenant- Cremisius Aclassi. Bull's Chargers."

"Krem." The human added in with a startled look at his leader, clearly reeling from the abrupt introductions with all the nervous surprise of someone who had just been caught talking about them.

"Our bosses have stuck us together for the night. I'm not going to try and talk around it- a few minutes ago I would've refused but you see those two just come in with the Orlesians?"

The Iron Bull nodded, "Red Iron company. Hired on for the wyvern hunt."

"Fresh from Kirkwall. I've had some dealings with them before and don't plan on a repeat performance. Now, I don't know you. I don't know whether you and your Duke were going to play fair on this hunt or not but those louts have an interest in not being shown up by me or any other qunari. Not sure about you but I don't fancy finding myself having a hunting accident."

"What are you suggesting we do about them?"

"Easy. Once we get to the wyvern's lair, all bets are off. Until then, though, safety in numbers. We don't trip you and your employer up, and we expect the same courtesy from you. Starting tonight."

"Well then, didn't realise I was already back in Kirkwall." A snide voice drifted towards them along with its owner, "I knew the Valo-kas'd left the Free Marches with your tails between your legs. Always nice to be proven right."

"Meeran." She greeted, coldly. "Why so far into Orlais?New Guard Captain try and put you in a cell again?"

"These all yours'?" He glanced around, "Didn't think you had humans in your group. Never knew any who'd sunk that far."

"Just him." She titled her head towards Adaar, swallowing her anger and fighting the urge to throw the first punch.

"Hmm, haven't seen that one before. Suppose you've had to find some replacements after-" One of the nobles called him over, "See you on the hunt then."

With one last mocking smile at her, Meeran walked away.

"Steaming sack of nug shit." Shokrakar spat. "Never thought I'd see him out of the Free Marches. Work must've dried up."

"We're in." The Iron Bull said suddenly. "If he's already picking fights with you he might try us next. Don't really feel like getting involved in whatever's going on there if I can help it."

"Well, it looks like we've made some friends after all." Adaar piped up, infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face. "I'll get the next round to celebrate."

As Adaar swiftly caught the attention of the barmaid and handed over coins that he was certain had been set aside for food, Shokrakar had a better look at their new allies. Enough of a look that she didn't miss the assessing glances that Adaar shot at The Iron Bull.

Or the way he returned them.

_Maybe raising the dead wouldn't have been so bad._


	3. Chapter 3

The dreaded argument over their sleeping arrangement was, in the end, cut short by the simple realisation that of the four of them, only Krem could actually fit on the bed. The Tevinter wasted no time in looking as smugly comfortable as possible from his perch as the three qunari rolled out their bedrolls and prepared for a night on the floor.

“Ugh.  _ Orlais. _ ” Adaar complained, “You know, I bet the Hero of Ferelden never had to deal with this sort of thing. I heard she could fit herself and half her companions in one Denerim bed.”

“Wasn’t the Hero of Ferelden a dwarf?” Krem’s muffled voice still carried over to Adaar even though the man himself was obscured by the covers he had buried himself under.

“ _ Yeah...  _ but she had a qunari, a golem, and a mabari with her if I remember the story.” Said Adaar, never one to admit defeat. 

They had been warned of an early start the next morning and despite the cramped and uncomfortable conditions, they had resolved to get as much sleep as possible. Particularly as while they were on the hunt they would be sleeping in shifts to leave at least one person free to keep watch.

Adaar had half a mind to inch his bedroll closer to Iron Bull but a sharp look from Shokrakar told him that she knew exactly what he intended and to forget about it. Katoh had once joked that the Maker may have turned his gaze away but Thedas would crumble into the sea before Shokrakar did the same. A shame; it was a simple plan, really. If Adaar had read him right, Iron Bull  _ could  _ be interested and feeding that interest could be the easiest way of throwing the other company off and that could only help to get Caron the heart. 

Sleep never came easily to him. Years after his magic had awoken and the Fade still frightened him. He had, luckily, never directly spoken with a demon but he could always feel the eyes of the Fade on him as he dreamt. Sometimes he thought he saw the shadow shapes moving just beyond his notice and it was such a feeling that night that stopped him from drifting completely into sleep. Adaar lay awake long after the other three had fallen asleep, rubbing a hand across his face. 

***

Dawn came as a relief. Despite his exhaustion and sore limbs from the wooden floor, Adaar was eager to get going. His enthusiasm was only matched by Krem’s, who seemed to be the only one of the four who had managed to get a decent rest. As a punishment for this fact, the moment they were in the business of preparing for the journey, Iron Bull informed Krem that he would be doing the lion’s share of the heavy lifting that day.

From the tone of his voice, as it rang loudly across the street in front of the tavern, Adaar was fairly sure that he knew the gist of what Krem was calling his leader.

“What is  _ that _ ?” Iron Bull’s incredulous voice shocked Adaar out of his daze. 

“What?”

“On your back.”

“Oh. It’s my bow.” Adaar said quickly.

“A bow?” Iron Bull repeated, “It looks a little…”

“Chunky?” Krem supplied, looking on curiously.

“Well that’s just how they make them in the Free Marches.”

“Which city?” The other Red Iron- a woman- had overheard from where she was tying her horse’s saddlebag.

“Um...Ostwick.”

“Interesting.” She said. Adaar couldn’t help but notice the soft  _ clinking  _ noise that her bag made as it moved. “I’m from Kirkwall and I’ve never seen anyone use a bow like that. Even among the qunari.”

“They have…different trees.” Adaar cringed as he heard the words leave his mouth. His mind was still buzzing blankly and he sighed in relief when Shokrakar emerged from the building, two heavy packs slung over her shoulder.

“Take this one.” She flung one to Adaar. His smile at her appearance was quickly wiped away as the bag nearly bowled him over. “Horses won’t be much use further ahead so Caron says we’re to carry the supplies.” She gave a curt nod to the Red Iron woman. “I think I saw the Count inside- said he had some expenses to settle before he could leave.”

***

Any stories he had heard about Orlesian wyvern hunts did little to prepare Adaar for reality. The cold, damp, tiring, trudging reality. An icy bite of wind forced him to seize the hood of his cloak and draw the fur lining closer around his head just to try and protect his stinging cheeks. Caron had been right- the path had become narrow and overgrown the further forward they pressed and those groups that had not already forgone their horses were forced to dismount and continue on foot. 

Adaar supposed that Emprise du Lion would be very beautiful in the spring- they had passed through enough frozen meadows and rivers to give him a hint. As things were in that moment, any life had been totally smothered by seemingly endless fields of white.

His exhausted mind didn’t quite catch up to the fact that he was no longer alone and Adaar nearly jumped out of his skin when Iron Bull spoke next to him.

“So, first time in Orlais?”

“Am I so obvious?”   
  


“Not too much.” Iron Bull smiled, eye never leaving his face as though he were a sentence in a particularly interesting book that the warrior was trying to read. “Just when you have to listen to the nobles talk. After a while people get that look trained out of them.”

“What look?”

“The look that tells me you can’t believe some of what comes out of their mouths.”

Adaar laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. The other week someone asked me what animal the Dread Wolf was.”

“Trust me- that’s  _ mild. _ ”

“Oh?”

“Don’t try to play the question game with a drunk chevalier.” 

“The question game?”

“Don’t have it in the Marches? Supposedly made up by some hermit mage in the forest. Ask a question, get a question but give an answer to get one.”

“Sounds painful and complicated. People do that for  _ fun _ ?”

But Adaar would not learn the reason why people played the question game. Iron Bull opened his mouth to reply but stopped. Silence swept down the line of hunters. Adaar saw Shokrakar drop her pack and take hold of her greataxe. With one swift motion, Adaar readied his bow, finger curled around the string that would shatter the whole thing into the pieces he needed.

“Whats-?” One of the hunters began and was met with a horrible hissing screech as a dozen snarling, lizard-like beasts came sprinting at them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steamed hams references in my dragon age fic? It's more likely than you think


	4. Chapter 4

_Shit._

Bull could have been thinking about the oncoming deepstalkers, but something far more alarming caught his eye. For just a moment, Adaar had twitched a hand towards his bow, as though about to use it, when a quick look and a shake of the head from Shokrakar had him retreating instead.

In Bull’s vast experience of fights, and even wider experience of working out when something was hiding something, that reluctance to use a weapon, coupled with the odd design of the bow itself pointed in one direction.

_Mage._

_Shame that_ , Bull reflected as he easily sliced a rushing deepstalker in half with his greatsword. He could tell from the moment he opened his mouth that Adaar was going to try for the classic ‘distract your competition’ plan- a plan that he would have been more than happy to let play out. Adaar didn’t have the suspicious frowns of a true Tal-vashoth, suggesting he had never lived a life under the Qun to begin with. A vashoth couldn’t turn to madness if they didn’t know what they had turned from. He was a touch younger than he’d normally go for, but Bull had never been able to refuse a redhead.

Until now, it seemed. Sad to do it, but even if he didn’t act like a qunari should most of the time Bull still kept one of the most urgent warnings in mind. While he didn’t believe that a mage would _literally_ pour demons in his ears (though if he managed to piss off Dalish by loudly talking about her apostasy in front of people again, he might find out), the thought of being around one without a weapon left him uneasy. Even if most of the southern mages he’d come across had been Circle-trained and tamed; nothing compared to the terrifying power of a _saarebas_.

The battle- if you could call it that- ended quickly, leaving all four groups worn and bloodied but luckily uninjured. Bull mentally cursed himself, he had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t had time to get a proper look at his other rivals. He had Shokrakar figured out already- Tal-vashoth but with a fierce loyalty to Adaar that he would guess extended to the rest of her company- but the two humans from the Red Iron would need more consideration. Meeran was, hopefully, all that he appeared to be but there was something missing from his picture of the woman. He felt just like he had when he had been trying to figure Adaar out, before the mage thing had made everything fit together into a clear picture. She carried herself as though prepared to be attacked at any moment, never seemed to join in the laughter from the rest of the group or even Meeran. Then there were the glances she kept shooting Adaar. They were decidedly _not_ the looks Bull knew he was giving, but something else entirely. Almost like she was looking at a chained mabari she expected to break free at any moment. _Perhaps a qunari thing_ , Bull wondered, _they are from Kirkwall_. He dismissed this idea quickly- he had not noticed any such looks directed at himself or at Shokrakar. He shelved that thought for the present. It may just have been that she _was_ interested in Adaar and had an odd way of expressing it.

The sun had already begun to set on the day, and it was with a sense of nervous mercy that the four Orlesians declared that they would be stopping their trek for the night. An hour later saw the Chargers and Valo-kas sharing a fire.

Their relief was short-lived.

Shokrakar was halfway through a suggestion that they crack open a bottle for the four to share when she froze, eyes narrowing at a spot past Krem’s left shoulder.

“Adaar. Bow. Now.” She hissed, getting to her feet as Bull and Krem did the same, swords at the ready. Adaar nodded and grabbed his ‘bow’ from where he had leant it against a tree.

There was a terrible gurgling, snarling sound and a figure erupted from the bushes.

It walked upright, wore armour, and held a blade in one outstretched hand but anyone could see that no man moved so hastily towards them with a vicious, hungry set to its expression. As it moved, it cried out again and Bull could see the tell-tale glinting of more eyes in the dark.

“Darkspawn!”

Someone, Bull couldn’t tell who, raised the alarm and the reaction was immediate. All those who could hold a blade were doing so. There was no room for anyone to sit this one out. Krem darted forwards and blocked a blow meant for his exposed side. Bull took the hurlock’s head with one blow.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Adaar. It was hard not to when the vashoth was _glowing_. In the blink of an eye, it looked as though the ‘bow’ had broken apart into pieces but shone and slotted themselves back together into what was now very obviously a staff.

Shokrakar’s swings were doing near as much damage as his own but still the monsters kept on coming. Bull moved forward to engage one that was sneaking up on Krem’s back but stopped as it suddenly burst into flame.

To his left, a genlock stood frozen solid and it was a simple thing to bring a crashing blow down upon its head to shatter the whole thing. As much as Bull hated to admit it, the presence of just one mage was turning the tide of the fight quickly. That was until a shriek burst from the trees and flung itself at Adaar.

Shokrakar screamed and hurled herself at it, knocking it aside and punching it in its monstrous snout until Bull heard a sickening _crack_. Shokrakar hissed and discarded her glove, throwing it into the slow and taking up her sword again.

Adaar was getting to his feet slowly but surely but Bull noticed the look of horror on his face as his eyes fell upon the splintered remains of his staff. He must have thrown it up instinctively to protect his face from the shriek, but the impact of the darkspawn’s attack had broken it.

 _Looks like we can’t rely on any more spells_ , Bull thought. The southern mages were powerful, but even the apostate-trained needed a staff to focus their power.

He turned his attention back to the darkspawn just in time to drive his blade threw the chest of a genlock that had been trying to attack his blind side. Bull could not say how much longer the fight continued. The tide of darkspawn felt endless and exhaustion threatened to engulf them if their numbers did not relent soon.

He had just finished his latest kill when he felt it. There was a strange heaviness to the air, thick and warm like the heat before a summer storm. The three hurlocks that had been about to rush him demanded his immediate attention, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that something had _changed_.

_Was it his imagination, or could he hear a distant humming?_

It happened so quickly that Bull could have missed it.

One moment, another group of darkspawn were preparing to charge him. In another, a blinding flash of light and that same group lay on the ground, still twitching. Bull whirled around just in time to see Adaar. He wasn’t glowing and his staff still lay splintered and forgotten.

Lightning crackled along the mage’s arms; from his shoulders down to the tips of his fingers.

If Bull hadn’t been so caught up in the moment of the fight, he would have recognised that feeling earlier.

Adaar was vashoth mage- not a _saarebas_.

But whoever had trained him?

_Shit._


End file.
